: Chapter 12
Love, Milo
With my hands in my pockets and a pang of embarrassment in my chest, I step ten minutes later into the kitchen to see Genesis, Raelynn, and Mom talking amongst themselves.
Raelynn, bronze skin glowing under the kitchen light, holds a bright grin on her face, laughing at something Genesis said. Mom stirs a pan filled with whatever sheâs cooking. Neither of them seems to notice me yet.
âPass me the syrup behind you, please,â Gen tells Raelynn.
I watch intensively as Raelynn turns to face my direction and freezes with her hand around the syrup.
My lips part and I try to find it in her face that shows she heard what I think she heard. Any sort of hint that she had been listening to me in the shower.
But she grins. âMilo, what took you so long? Your food is almost cold.â
I squint at her, confused by her question. Could it mean something, or maybe nothing at all? My head drops, clearing my throat to speak as the others turn around at her words to look at me.
âLost track of time in the shower,â I resort to saying. âBut I canât eat now. Iâm late for work.â
I walk towards the couch where my trench coat draped over the back from last night sits and throw it on. Raelynn gives Genesis the syrup bottle.
âAre you ready, my love?â I catch her eyes. My mom beside her smiles at my supposed affectionate words towards my supposed girlfriend. She looks better than she did yesterday after her episode. Her smile brings me joy.
Sheâs the real reason for this thing with Raelynn, despite me telling Raelynn some other shit excuse at the time.
Technically, I hadnât lied, I do have an ex, her name I try never to think about. But sheâs no longer around, and I hope Raelynn never notices that.
Raelynn smiles a bit, and it catches my attention. âReady for what?â She asks me.
âTo meet my children.â
She drops the metal spoon in her hand, and it falls to the tiled floor, clanking and rattling. Genesis and Mom turn to stare at her as she looks at me.
âYour children?â
Gen laughs. âHis students, he means. Milo takes his job a little too seriously; those kids are practically his.â
Raelynnâs body relaxes. âOh⦠yeah, right, teacher,â she reminds herself briefly.
***
Itâs been a silent ride to the elementary school I work at. Raelynn sits in the passenger seat at my side, and Iâve been aching to speak about this morning. Her kisses, her on top of me, the way it had nothing to do with our charade.
âSpit it out,â I say. She hasnât said a word to me the entire ride.
She turns her head to me, her hair in two braids still. It makes her look almost innocent, yet I feel sheâs far from it. Nothing about her grinding on me said innocence.
She turns her gaze from the window to me. âWhat are you talking about?â
âWhatâs on your mind? Youâre quiet.â
She shrugs. âNothing.â
I breathe deeply. Why canât women just say whatâs on their mind? Thereâs something wrong yet finding it out is always a guessing game.
âIâm going to ask you again; this time, donât talk out of your assââ
âThis morning meant nothing,â she admits quickly, staring at the side of my face as I drive. âThe make-out session, I mean.â
Iâm struck in the heart momentarily, not expecting her words. Though, I shouldâve.
Looking at her is impossible, afraid my eyes will give away my true feelings. True feelings that Iâd rather just leave unknown and left in the far corner of my heart.
âWhat were you dreaming about?â
âWhat?â
I repeat myself, adding, âWhatever you were dreaming had to be why you kissed me. What was it?â
She is silent before I see her shrug in my peripheral vision.
âI canât remember anymore. And there wasnât a reason⦠it just happened, and it shouldnât have.â She twists to look at me in her seat.
Her voice turns raspy, with a shake to it nearly, âWhat happened was a mistake. The other day in the store, you were telling the truth; we donât have to do anything but pretend. Kissing you was wrong. I donât want toâ¦â she trails off.
My chest hurts, and breathing becomes a difficult task. I hide it well from her, thankful I donât have to look at her right now. âTo what?â
âI donât want toâ¦â she loses her words again.
âTo string me along?â I glance at her, and she nods.
I nod, understanding exactly what she means. Whatever I thought she was beginning to feel for me was an illusion. This morning was an illusion, a lie, and I shouldnât be surprised, but I am. Itâs not every day a woman turns away from having me. Usually, Iâm being thrown flirtatious smiles and smirks from women everywhere I go. Yet, this one, this woman who loves pickles, fights off raccoons and adores flowers to the extent of obsession, wants nothing to do with me romantically.
âYeah,â she finally confesses.
I laugh, shaking my head and stopping the car in front of the entrance of my school. Leaning over to unbuckle her broken seatbelt, I lean into her. âDonât get too cocky, darling. It wasnât serious to me either. Any woman can kiss me and rile me up it had nothing to do with you. Being more than friends has never crossed my mind.â
The seatbelt unlocks with a tug, and her body shifts; I glance down at her breast through the black shirt she wears with a wide neckline. We stopped at our apartment so she could get a change of clothes, this shirt and a pair of black trousers.
She looks like she might be a part of some sort of badass crime organization with all this black. The thought of her holding a knife to my throat appears and disappears in the blink of an eye.
âOkay, good,â she says. âBeing more than friends with you hasnât crossed my mind either.â
âGood.â
She opens the door and steps out of the car; I go to do the same until I hear her voice.
âDo you know another Raelynn by any chance?â she asks, bending over to look at me.
âNo?â
Her eyebrows jump, and her mouth twists. Behind her is the school entrance, with several dozen students finding their way inside and making noise.
âWell,â she says quietly. âNext time youâre in the shower, try to think about these words of yours and keep me out of your fantasies.â
My heart stops.
She heard me, after all.
Heat crawls up my neck, seeping out my cheeks, and my throat burns from a tang of embarrassment.
âWhat?â I fumble.
She smiles, tilting her head. âYouâre five minutes late, and the kids are probably waiting on you.â The doors shut, and I watch her figure, shirt tucked in the waist of her trousers, carving out her curves.
Why does her disinterest in me make her more intriguing? It should stop me from wanting her like I know I shouldnât. Itâs like the more she turns me down, the more I want to win her over.
Similar to a game, sheâs the objective.
It is a game that I have to play cautiously because, in the end, I either win her over or lose her entirely. And I have a feeling there are no due overs, no restates, or no hints to it at all.
If the slow game is what she wants, then fine, the slow game is what sheâll get.
Raelynn waves to a few children, and I sigh, getting out of the car.
***
I clap three times at the class filled with six and seven-year-olds.
âAlright,â I say loudly; getting their attention isnât so easy sometimes. The basket of eggs filled with candy in my hand helps instantly, however.
A dozen pairs of wide eyes of excitement, along with Raelynn at my side, stare at me as I speak. âSome of you may notice a new face.â I walk towards Raelynn, and she grins. Since the moment she saw them, her smile hasnât faltered.
âIs that your wife!â One of my students blurts.
I stutter. âUm, Noââ
A young boy, Robbin, raises his hand but speaks without permission anyway. âMrs. Evans, do you two hold hands?â He says it as if itâs the most obscure thing.
âEwwwww!â Haven cringes, a little girl with two puffs of curly hair on each side of her parted head. âI heardâ I heard boys are sick. Cooties! Donât touch hands!â She shakes her finger from side n to side.
âHey! I donât have cooties,â Robbin exclaims, his eyes glistening with tears.
I sigh, redirecting the conversation. âNo, we donât hold hands, and no, this isnât my wife. This isâ¦â My eyes lock with Raelynn, âMy friend. Sheâs here to help you all.â
Raelynn waves and says hi to them, and they all seem to like her off the bat. Surprising. Who wouldnât?
For the next hour and a half, Raelynn and I are busy painting eggs with terrible paintings and kids that have dirtied my shirt and marked my face. Raelynn sits on the carpet surrounded by several kids crisscrossed with aprons on; painting boiled eggs still. Sheâs just as dirty as me, and yet she doesnât seem to mind it. Her hair is in a large bun at the back of her head, and a few curls and strands fall around her face. She giggles as Haven pokes her septum piercing and says she wants the same one when sheâs older.
I listen to her conversation with Haven from the tables I wipe down.
âDo doâ do you have a uh⦠children with Mr. Evans, Mrs. Evans?â Haven, with her high-pitched voice, asks a very personal, inappropriate question.
Sheâs smart for her age, extremely. Sheâs a grade or two above what sheâs supposed to be at. Whatever her parents were doing, they did it well. Mustâve been teaching her since birth.
I look over to see Raelynnâs smile fall. âNo, I donât. And you can call me Raelynn; Milo isnât my husband.â
âSaying his first name is a bad word.â She whispers, making it harder for me to hear her with all the chatter. I smile; Iâve told them all the same thing.
Raelynn shakes her head. âNo, the word fuck is a bad word. If you said I love these fucking eggs, then yeah. But I donât really know why anyone cares about cursing in the first place,â Raelynn begins to ramble to herself more so. âIf youâre not using it to hurt anyone, then cursing is fine.â
I need to stop this.
âSo⦠cursing is good?â Haven asks.
Raelynn nods, âNot if you do it in front of adultsâ but you didnât hear it from me.â
I straighten my back and wipe my hands on the rag going to end this incredibly ridiculous interaction just as Haven points to Raelynnâs egg and smiles, âI like your fucking egg.â
âDonât say that,â I say loudly, making Haven jump. âRaelynn, what the fâ crap do you have my kids saying?â
Raelynn laughs wickedly and covers her mouth. âOh, come on, donât scare the girl. She was just listening to me. Sort of.â
âThatâs exactly my point.â I bend over and look at Haven. âDonât say that word, ever. Itâs bad.â
Her big brown eyes stare back at me, nibbling on her finger. âSorry.â
I assure her sheâs okay, then send her off and turn to Raelynn. âTeaching them to curse. Really?â My words are stern and serious on the matter. âYouâre not the one who gets to hear the shit around here, so Iâd rather you not.â
She stands close, slips her hands in her back pocket, and nods. I watch her deep chocolate brown eyes, then trace the blue paint streak across her cheek.
âGot it,â she says softly with a smile. âWonât happen again.â She lifts her hand and makes an X across her chest where her heart is located, smirks, and then walks back to my students.
She claps once. âWho wants lunch? Iâm fucking starving.â